ancient names
by maybelling
Summary: He ducked under her leg and reached up as she stumbled to grab her thigh, pulled her low to him. "You're not Valkyrie," he said. / Skulduggery and Valkyrie fight a succubus.


**A/N: HEY THERE DEMONS IT'S ME YA BOI. set a little bit after SPX. this is EXTREMELY SELF-INDULGENT and has very little coherent plot to speak of and i haven't written fic for 900 years and also skul POV is hard and it's bad i'm so sorry. title is from the lord huron song.**

* * *

"So it's a Remnant?" Valkyrie said.

"No, it's not a Remnant." He had explained this to her six times already. He didn't mind explaining it again. "It doesn't need to posess another body. It has its own form. It's complete. If anything, it's more of a—"

"Shapechanger?" she said.

"Yes. Precisely. I think I'll use that word when you ask me again in ten minutes."

"I just don't understand." She leaned back a little in her seat, and he noticed the easy way she fitted herself into the space, the old comfort of it. Then he noticed the tight jacket riding slightly over her shoulders, and the little sliver of midrift it exposed, and he looked away.

"Forgivable. You're still readjusting after half a decade away from work. And, let's be honest, you never were the brightest."

"That's me," she said, a small smile flickering across her lips as she looked at him. "Good old half-wit Valkyrie."

"You said it, not me."

"But I've never even heard of a creature like this before."

"Which, with your twelve years of experience, is shocking, I have to admit."

"Shut up. You know what I mean. It just sounds like the kind of thing you'd tell me about when I was thirteen, and I'd believe it, and then you'd make fun of me."

"Nonsense. This being is entirely plausible. Its magic is psychic in origin, and it works on the same principle that sirens do—only its form changes physically, instead of the transformation taking place in the mind of the beholder."

"I thought octopus people were plausible, when I was twelve."

"Well, that was your mistake, not mine."

Valkyrie only snorted in response, in that lilting way that meant she was still smiling. Skulduggery didn't recognize the feeling that had crept up inside him until it spread its way through the whole of him - a light, pleasant emotion, indescribable, comfortable, and familiar. A warm stream through him which said, _This is right, This is right. This is how it's supposed to be._ Just Valkyrie, the Bentley, and him, and their words back and forth, and the laughter in her voice.

He glanced over at her again. Her arms were above her head now, and more of her skin was on display. He looked back at the road.

—

It was only their second case together since she'd come back — technically their third, if you counted the Abyssinia ordeal. Skulduggery didn't. He didn't count it at all, when he'd spent half their time together trying to kill her.

Things were still settling back into their places, things as well as thoughts and emotions, more specifically his thoughts and emotions. Ones he hadn't had to confront for those five lonely years. Ones he liked to pretend he had let himself forget.

Valkyrie was sleeping beside him, having surrendered sometime around three in the morning, her head splayed back on the headrest, the long line of her throat catching in the brief flashes of the streetlights they passed. It was a long drive. She shifted a few times in her sleep, muttering ridiculous things under her breath, incoherent things, fragments of a dream. He strained to catch all of it. Nothing made any sense. His gloved fingers trilled against the steering wheel. He'd turned the radio down when he first noticed the slow, even pace of her breathing, so that it was no more than a whisper against the night.

—

"It's a succubus," Valkyrie said drowsily, a few hours later, around seven o'clock.

He turned to her, nearly surprised, unaware that she'd woken - he had been distracted, thinking. Trying not to think.

She rolled her shoulders back and sat up, her dark hair knotted artlessly against the back of her scalp, a cowlick sticking up above her left temple.

"I'm sorry?"

"The thing. The creature." She rubbed her palms against her eyes. "You know. The thing."

"Ah," he said. "Of course. You've narrowed it down expertly."

"You know what I'm talking about. You could have just told me it was a succubus, you know. You've taught me about those before. I would have remembered it then."

"But then where would the lesson be? Where would your own extravagant brainpower come in?"

"You said there were hardly any of them left. They're nearly extinct."

"And so they are. Note the nearly."

"You said they're extremely dangerous."

"Extremely dangerous if one is unprepared. There's a reason China sent us and not Rick and Joe the amateur detectives."

"Rick and Joe? Really?"

"I was improvising."

"Not your best work."

Skulduggery reached over to turn the radio back up. "We'll be there in another hour or so. We need to be ready. What else do you remember about succubi?"

"To be honest, not much. I know they're shapechangers. I know they're hot."

"Hot?"

"They're subjectively hot."

"According to whom?"

"To the person there."

"Correct. And they can only represent that individual's idea of feminine beauty. Which is, of course, limiting to some extent."

"It doesn't really sound that dangerous. What other kind of magic do they have? Can they shoot lasers with their eyes?"

"No," Skulduggery admitted. "They're pretty strong, though."

"So am I."

He dipped his head. "They might be stronger."

"Have you seen these guns?"

"Impressive as they are, I wouldn't underestimate the threat at hand."

Valkyrie shrugged. "The threat shouldn't underestimate us." She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, off of her face, and moved her head in time to the music the radio played.

—

Their destination was a warehouse, tens of miles away from any majors roads and even an impressive distance away from the more rural paths. It could be called truly the middle of nowhere, in a way that most ramshackle hideaways could only envy, he was sure. There was only one entrance that they could see - no windows, no skylights, no basement door. Only the boring, obvious way.

"I think this might be a trap," Valkyrie said.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Why is a succubusin a warehouse, anyway? Who's she going to seduce in there? Isn't that her whole thing?"

"Presumably she's killing people," Skulduggery said, "since that's the reason we're here in the first place. Although I must admit I doubt she gets many random stragglers finding their way here."

"So she seduces them first," Valkyrie replied, completing his thought, "and then brings them here, and kills them after."

"That would be my first suspicion, yes."

"But why?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't say. We'll just have to find out for ourselves."

As there was really very little point in trying to sneak when their car was sitting out in broad daylight by the side of the dirt road, they walked together up to the entrance, Valkyrie turning every which way to take everything in, though there was very little to see. Just the flat fields, a few sparse trees here and there, and the bleak, concrete form of the building.

They arrived at the door, and stopped. "Should we knock?" Valkyrie said.

"That would be polite."

They stood there for a few more moments. "I could kick in the door," she offered. "It might be kind of overdramatic, though."

Skulduggery tested the knob. As he expected, it didn't turn. "A flair for the dramatic never hurt," he said with a shrug. "I'll help. On three. One, two—"

He didn't get a chance to finish his count. The door flew open, nearly knocking Valkyrie off her feet, and a strange mist poured out, odorless and opaque, and Skulduggery felt the form of his consciousness leave him, processed before it left the flash of sunlight against Valkyrie's hair, her fingers grasping at his arm, a few choked words, hands pulling them apart, and then the darkness.

—

He woke up in a room. So far, so reasonable. It wasn't often that his consciousness left him, wasn't often at all, so it took him longer than it should have to regain a clear state of mind, to take in his surroundings. He remembered Valkyrie instantly, and scanned the room for her.

She was lying on the floor a few feet away from him, head cradled against the curve of her arm. Her chest rose and fell and from what he could see she was uninjured, though consciousness hadn't come back to her yet. As he watched her, she stirred.

"Skulduggery?" she said, voice muffled against her sleeve, dark eyes blinking awake.

"Are you alright?" he said.

"I think so. A little sore." She sat up, rubbing her forehead. "Where are we?"

The walls and the ceiling were the same dull eggshell-white, the paint peeling in places. The floor was concrete, cold and gray. There were no defining characteristics, nothing very telling at all, apart from the fact that it was obviously poorly maintained. There was only a single door, part of the handle broken off, not obviously locked or chained. "Probably still in the warehouse. Although I'm surprised we're not in shackles. This room isn't bound, and the — "

Before he could finish his sentence, before he could even see her move, Valkyrie was on him. She swung at his jaw, and he had barely moved out of the way before she was kicking at his skull, as though she were trying to sever it from his spine.

He ducked under her leg and reached up as she stumbled to grab her thigh, pulled her low to him. "You're not Valkyrie," he said.

She tried to twist out of his grasp, elbowing at his ribs, managed to slip free. She darted to the other side of the room, and smiled at him. Her smile was Valkyrie's. So were her eyes, her tightly corded arms, and the sound of her laughter.

"Well," she said. Her voice was Valkyrie's, too. "Well, well, well. I don't know what I expected, Detective."

"Where is she?" His gun was trained on her now, of course. His gloved finger was tight against the trigger.

"I don't know what form I expected to take for you." She stood lazily against the wall, relaxed, not looking at all afraid. "It's not like I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, don't flatter yourself. But I knew you were coming, and one wonders, you know."

"Tell me where she is," Skulduggery said.

"Maybe I expected your wife," the succubus continued. "Not that I know what she looked like, of course. But I didn't expect this." She glanced down at herself curiously.

"If you've hurt her," he said, focused, unmoving, "I'll — "

"You're already going to kill me, or so you think," the succubus said. "I don't really know what you think you have to threaten me with. You should be glad she's not here with you." She looked at him, blinked, making her eyes huge. "Do you really want her to know how you feel?"

She lunged at him again, but he was ready, sidestepping her and catching her neck in the crook of his elbow. He forced her to her knees, put the gun to her temple, grabbed her hair to tilt her head back —

— and saw those dark eyes, so wide, saw Valkyrie's face, saw Valkyrie on her knees, saw his gun to her head, and she gasped as though suddenly afraid, her forehead creased, and "Skulduggery," she said, "Skulduggery, please, stop, what are you doing, please-" and it was as though a spasm tore through him, his fingers unclenched, his hand jerked to the side, he wouldn't shoot her, not again —

— and the succubus darted to her feet again, grinning now, letting out a mocking laugh. "I can't read your mind, you know," she said, backed into a corner opposite him, "I don't suppose you have a mind to read, but obviously you're not impervious to me. Somehow I can still read your desires. Usually when I talk to someone for this long I flick through multiple forms — I'm not even a real person sometimes, not even someone they know, just an idea of what they want, their perfect woman. But not for you. I'm even wearing her clothes."

Skulduggery fired, but even he knew it was a weak shot, not intended to hit. The succubus danced away from it with ease, then looked at him in the silence that followed, her face serious again, her eyes afraid. "Skulduggery," she said, "I love you."

"Stop," he said, voice cold, darkness twisting through him. "If you think that I won't kill you because you look like her, you're wrong. You'll discover how wrong you are very shortly if you don't tell me where she is and how to get to her."

He barely even registered when she moved again—she was so fast—he didn't have time to react when she came up next to him, pushing his gun out of the way and wrapping her arms around his. "We don't have to fight," she said, and now her ear was an inch away from where his would be, speaking with Valkyrie's voice, "you don't have to hurt me, we can do something else, you can finally —"

Skulduggery knocked her away, sent a rush of air to throw her against the opposite wall and was right up against her before she could squirm away, his gun to her head again, his hand across her mouth. What was left of his body, the part of his consciousness which still thought for his body, responded to their proximity, responded to the feeling of Valkyrie's body against his, and it sent him into an even darker mood. His voice was flat, with no intonation. "You're going to let me out and show me to where she is, and then you're going to come —"

There was a crash on the other side of the room, and the door splintered out of its frame. He heard a voice call his name and his head spun as Valkyrie ran into the room, palms out. There was a scratch across her forehead and one of her hands was bleeding. She saw him and froze.

The succubus wrenched her mouth, still Valkyrie's mouth, from under his hand and laughed. "She's seeing what you're seeing," she said, voice low and gleeful. "I retain my shape as long as the first person who saw me is here."

It only took Valkyrie a moment to start moving again, and as her hands began to glow Skulduggery threw the succubus to the floor. She rolled away from the first few streaks of light that Valkyrie threw at her, but between her and Skulduggery together, their moves coordinated and efficient, they had the creature cuffed before two minutes were out. As the runes took effect, her form vanished, Valkyrie's face gone from her in an instant, replaced by deep red skin, pointed teeth, and snake-slit eyes. Something fiendish, Skulduggery's mind supplied, succubi were fiends.

They hauled the creature up and out of the room, in search of the exit. Neither of them spoke.

—

The team of Cleavers arrived shortly after they stumbled back into the sunlight, to take the succubus into custody and clear the warehouse of its other unsavory inhabitants. Skulduggery walked back to the Bentley. Valkyrie stayed nearer to the fray and watched the Cleavers haul a small cache of various monsters out in chains, some wailing in the sunlight, some hissing at her as they passed. He stood by the car and watched her watch them, until he realized it would quite unsettle her if she looked back, so he opened the door and sat in the driver's seat and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and waited.

He heard her approach, a long stretch of time later. The passenger door opened, and she climbed in smoothly, shut the door with quiet, practiced care.

Skulduggery started the engine, pulled back out onto the road.

"So," Valkyrie said. She was looking at him. "I think we can call our second case a success."

"I suppose you could apply the word to it, yes."

"It was a little messy, maybe," she said.

"Only a little." He looked at her, then quickly away again. "How are you? I do hope you're not bleeding into my upholstery."

"Your concern touches me, but I'm fine. They gave me a Star Wars bandaid for my hand." She held it up to show him, and he made a sound of amusement, noncommital.

"Only the finest in healthcare for us Arbiters, I see."

They drove a little longer in silence, until they were out on a main road again, and night had conquered the sky.

"So," Valkyrie said again.

He didn't respond.

"Soooooooooooooooo," she said, drawing out the vowel, making it almost into a sing-song melody. Her singing voice had always been quite regrettable.

"Is there something you want to talk about?" he said.

"I think there's something we _should_ talk about. I don't know if _want_ factors into it."

"I would say that want factors into it quite substantially."

Valkyrie went quiet, and he could have kicked himself, would have bitten through his own tongue if he'd still possessed one.

"We don't have to say anything about it," he said, trying to make his voice sound even, trying to make it sound casual, unforced. "We never have to talk about it again. I won't — if it — I understand that you must be — "

The words wouldn't come. She was staring at him. He cleared the throat he didn't have.

"It must be — upsetting. I apologize. I don't — I won't — I wouldn't ever act — "

"Stop," Valkyrie said.

He almost stopped the car, so entirely did he obey her.

"I'm not upset," Valkyrie said.

"Okay."

"You don't believe me."

"It isn't that I disbelieve you. But you don't have to lie to me — I would quite prefer that you didn't. To be perfectly honest, I don't know that I could handle dishonesty at the moment."

"Skulduggery," Valkyrie said, "pull over."

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled into the shoulder of the road. He still wasn't looking at her. He knew he would see the thin pink line across her forehead, and the hair against her cheek.

"You should have told me," she said.

"I can't possibly see what purpose it would have served."

"Can you look at me, please?" she asked, very softly. He looked at her. He saw the scratch, the hair falling into her face, her dark eyes.

"When you told me about succubi," she said, not very far from him, not keeping a careful distance, not seeming repulsed, not even wary of him, "you said there was a male species, too. What were they called? Don't make me work for it, please," she added dryly, "I'm not going to remember."

"The incubus, they're called," he answered. "Though you should probably remember."

"Whatever. What I want to say that if it was an incubus in there, and you busted the door down, guess what you would have seen?"

"I would have found a more elegant way into the room, for a start. Certainly something less noisy."

"Go with me for two seconds here, please."

"What would I have seen, Valkyrie?"

"You would have seen me having it out with a creepy demon version of you. Or, you know, the creepy demon version of you would be unconscious, because I totally would have kicked its ass already. But that's beside the point."

"What is the point?"

"The point," she said. They were still looking at each other. She'd undone her seatbelt, and leaned in close until her arm rested against the driver's seat. He was perfectly still. "The point is that I'm not upset. I'm a little upset that you think I'd be so upset. I'm not — it's not — I don't know how to say this."

"I don't know what you're trying to say."

Valkyrie moved closer, leaned into him, until her face and his skull were almost touching and then they _were_ touching as she brought her lips to press against his teeth, for just a fraction of a moment. Skulduggery still didn't move. Cars whizzed past them in the dark, the whoosh of their tires against the asphalt taking the edge away from the silence.

He said nothing, and she withdrew, and he could see embarrassment flash across her face and before he knew what he was doing he'd pulled off his own seatbelt and grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back to him and he felt her lips again, felt himself delight in it though he didn't know how to kiss her back. He supposed he would have to figure something out.

"That's what I meant," Valkyrie said, pulling away.

"Oh," he said.

They settled back into their seats, and he started driving again. He had to, if they wanted to make it back home before the Sanctuary questioned what was taking them so long. And he wanted very badly to get back home.

"I think," he said, voice light, "that our second case may have been a success indeed."

Valkyrie looked at him and smiled. He tilted his head, and knew that she saw he was smiling, too. The night slid by around them, punctured here and there with light.


End file.
